Mood Rings
by Lady Shadow
Summary: In the small community of the supernatural, it doesn't make sense for neighbors to fight amongst themselves. But how does an outsider see their unusual conflict? Tenatively JacobEdward.
1. Author's Notes

_Title:_ Mood Rings

**Author**: Lady Shadow

_Fandom:_ Twilight

_Pairing(s)_: EdwardJacob, undecided.

_**Disclaimer:**_ The following is a work of _fanfiction_. It is based on the ideas, settings, situations and characters of the Twilight Saga. The author of this work of fanfiction neither owns nor claims to own the aforementioned ideas, settings, situations and characters. They are the sole property of the creators and owners of the Twilight Saga and all other legal associates, including, but not limited to: Stephanie Meyer, and Warner Brothers, Inc.. This fanfiction is written for entertainment purposes only and no profit is made from the writing or publication of this piece. No infringement of any rights, copyright or otherwise, is intended. Original plot and characters are © Lady Shadow, 2009.

_Summary_ : In the small community of the supernatural, it doesn't make sense for neighbors to fight amongst themselves. But how does an outsider see their unusual conflict?

Status: WIP

Series/Title/Pos? N

Sequel/Title? N

Prequel/Title? N

**Warning(s)** : None

_Genre(s)_ : Drama/Romance.

_Author's Notes_ : This is a gift-fic and, for the moment, a teaser. It is not intended to be entirely "serious."Again, disregards _Breaking Dawn_.

_Beta_ :

Word Count:


	2. Group Therapy

PROLOGUE:: Group Therapy

Promise was a terrible thing;it made falling so much worse. He'd been promising once. Top of his class. Valedictorian, quarter-back, homecoming king, and three-time regional chess champion. _Most likely to..._He was charming, good-looking and had an easy smile. Popular, but kind. Perfect.

Promising.

The matter of promise hadn't pulled him out of the fire though. Neither had his California good-looks or his faint southern accent.

_Promising_ hadn't survived its first introduction to Ivy-League college life. Who knew he had an addictive personality?

Philip laughed aloud and leaned back in his chair, arms falling to either side. _Addictive personalities_ were exactly the type of thing he had been trained to catch. Could he have caught it in himself from an outside perspective? Were any of the pieces there before? 4.0 student with a healthy, but not-excessive social life. A pretty, but empty-headed girlfriend. More friends than he could readily keep track of. Both parents alive, marriage still intact. No history of abuse. A successful older brother and a pretty younger sister. How would he have diagnosed his own case?

_The patient is clearly bored and under-stimulated_, he would have said. _The patient has an obviously narrow view of the world and little contact with hardship. The patient feels pressured to succeed and desires to act out. The patient. The patient. The patient. _

On whom could he pin his downfall? Had there been a wolf to draw him down the Dark Path, or had he found it and gone stumbling merrily along his way with no provocation, no invitation?

He couldn't really remember. Five years could be a lifetime.

Philip was clean for the first time in just such a lifetime. Detox had been enough to convince him that he was dead and in hell.

Which would make Carlisle Cullen the smiling, shinning face of the Devil.

"How do you feel, Philip?" Dr. Cullen asked. The name came easily and immediately to his lips, as though he knew it and hadn't had to look at the chart before coming into the room.

Philip scrubbed shaky hands across his face. "Why would you do this to me?"

"You said you wanted to be clean," Dr. Cullen reminded him calmly. He had an amazing voice to go along with his amazing face. He should have been an actor or a model. Or a porn star. Something that would come with a lot less liability and a bigger paycheck.

"Being clean doesn't feel so...clean," Philip admitted. He felt grungy and skeletal. Looking at his own hands with clear eyes was somehow disturbing. He hid them in his lap.

"You'll feel better once your body has had the chance to recover," Carlisle said with kind conviction. The man had offered to let him shower and dress in 'normal' clothing before they had their inevitable chat, but Philip had stupidly refused. He felt even less clean sitting across the small table from the work of art that was Doctor Carlisle Cullen.

"So... why make me your project?" he asked finally. It was the question that had been burning a hole in the back of his head during his lucid periods. Dressed in a sued jacket and khaki pants, Dr. Cullen had looked almost comically out of place on his door step. His easy smile had been Philip's undoing. _Yes, I want to be clean_._ I want my life back._ It had sounded like such a good idea when he was shouting from the bottom of the proverbial well. Now, spilling out into the harsh sunlight, he wanted to crawl back in.

Cullen reached into his briefcase and pulled out a thick manuscript. He set it silently on the table and pushed it gently across.

_The Process of Othering: Getting Along with the Neighbors._

"Where did you get this?" He flipped through the pages, catching familiar phrases. The feel of the paper between his fingers was somehow foreign, though this manuscript was more familiar to him than the needle he was recently more accustomed to.

"I took great interest in your work," Carlisle said after letting Philip flip through the pages for a minute.

"Let me guess... I was so promising." He rolled his eyes and let the manuscript drop to the table. For a long time, there was silence and he examined the table. He hadn't been in much of a condition to notice the room when he'd been brought in, trembling with withdrawal, but he'd been able to take in a little of it since waking, clear-headed for the first time in far too long. It didn't strike him as a hospital room. With the exception of the medical equipment set up in the corner, it might have been a bedroom in someone's house.

"Expectation can be a terrible thing."

Philip looked up at the man. He was immediately inclined to wonder what could have ever been terrible for Carlisle Cullen, but he met the doctor's strange golden eyes and hesitated. He felt something vague and instinctive pulling at his gut and was frozen, trapped, heart pounding hard in his chest. His legs twitched as though to run, but he couldn't move.

Carlisle's lashes lowered slightly, his shoulders relaxed and the strange paralyzing fear released its hold on Philip's heart. Looking at the man again, he couldn't even believe he'd been so terrified in the first place. He shook his head as though to throw away the feeling.

"You're amazingly sensitive, Philip."

"What?"

"You're very cognizant of body language. Your theories on non-verbal communication are... intriguing."

"So...what, you drag me out of my hell-hole apartment and spend all this time and effort putting me through detox so we can discuss non-verbal communication? My thesis? Have a nice academic chat over tea and biscuits?"

"In a manner of speaking." Carlisle smiled in his disarming way and tapped gently on the table. His nails were neat and impeccably cared for, much like the rest of the man. "Why don't I show you to the restroom and you can take a shower? My wife is making dinner and eager to meet you." He stood and gestured to the stack of clothing and toiletries that had been sitting patiently in a vacant chair.

"Wife?" Philip gave him an incredulous look. "Am I in your _house_?!"

Carlisle merely smiled and pulled the door open. "Coming?"

~*~

Clean, dressed and fed, Philip sat dazedly in Carlisle's office and stared at the fire. Esme was sweet and maternal and she made even chicken soup into an amazing thing. The house was amazing, the view was amazing, Carlisle's smile was fucking amazing, and Philip was very suspicious.

"What do you want from me?" he asked, eyes narrowed. Carlisle was sitting across from him in a matching leather chair. Philip felt like the man should be swirling a glass of brandy, but he'd yet to see either Dr. Cullen or his wife eat or drink anything. "I can't believe you've done this out of some humanitarian effort." He was waiting for the bill and had a feeling it was going to contain a lot of digits.

"You are correct; generally I don't bring my patients home with me."

Philip swallowed hard against his will and wished _he_ had a glass of brandy. "So...?"

"My family and I live in a small town in Washington. We're having a little...trouble, as it were, with our near-neighbors. I remembered your thesis and looked you up."

"And were oh-so-disappointed to find me washed up and strung out?" Philip guessed. "Why didn't you just go find someone else? It's not like I'm the only grad student who ever postulated on the psychology of neighborhood feuds. Why go through all this effort? Seems like it would be more worth your while to just move." He leaned forward on his knees and avoided looking down at his hands. He did feel marginally better in real clothing with the sweat of his unpleasant detox washed away. He felt less cornered.

Carlisle smiled. "The issue is really less like the standard neighborhood disagreement and more like a medieval blood feud."

He somehow made the words sound reasonable. So much so that it took Philip several seconds to convince himself to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

"What do you want _me_ to do about that? Learn how to use a broad sword, maybe?"

"How do you feel about group therapy?"


	3. Epicenter

ONE:: Epicenter

"We're going. That's final." Sam's calm voice invited no argument and Jacob seethed.

"_Why?!_" He knew he wasn't the only one upset by the concept. Group therapy with the leeches?! Was Sam _nuts_?!

"Do you think the Cullens are the worst thing out there, Jacob?" Sam's expression was no less calm, but his eyes were intense. The rest of the pack waited around them, unsure, waiting to see who would win. Quil and Embry stayed close to Jacob's side, Paul and Jared on either side of their alpha. Like usual, Seth stood equidistant from them both, his brow furrowed a little; Colin and Brady stood with him and Leah leaned against the gymnasium doors, rolling her eyes.

"So what, Sam? Want to throw on red capes and go chasing evil with them? Form a secret crime-fighting agency of vigilante super-heroes?"

"I don't think you quite understand the concept of 'that's final,' Jacob." Sam tipped his head and gave Quil and Embry warning looks. The two hesitated and then quickly headed for the gym. The rest of the pack fell reluctantly into step, leaving Jacob and Sam facing each other in the wet parking lot.

"Now is not the time for us to fight amongst ourselves, Jacob. I am not suggesting that we invite these bloodsuckers over for Christmas dinner, but we're going to give this a try. Things are coming, Jake, and we can't be divided and squabbling amongst ourselves if we hope to survive it."

"What things?" Jacob demanded, his fists clenched at his sides.

"You can't tell me you don't feel it." Sam's dark eyes searched his face and Jacob reluctantly nodded. The alpha reached forward and grasped his shoulder. "I need you, Jake."

"Sure, sure. Whatever." He shrugged out of his alpha's grip and shouldered past him.

~*~

The folding metal chairs had been arranged in a large circle. The Cullens were already there and took up half the circle. Seth slid into the chair that formed the border with the vampires with easy grace. He smiled at Emmett and the big vampire grinned back. The rest of the pack reluctantly took seats and they all waited in tense silence for the session to start.

Philip sat at one end of the circle and examined the patients. The two groups were dichotomy in living action. The Quileutes were almost all staggeringly tall and exhibited the typical genetic markers of Native Americans; deep olive skin, dark hair, dark eyes and a certain wideness in the face. In contrast, the Cullens were unnaturally pale with chiseled good looks and strange topaz eyes. He still wasn't convinced that they weren't all wearing contacts.

He sat calmly with his elbows braced on his knees, hands clasped in front of him while he examined them. He felt that taking the normal posture of a psychologist would be a fatal error in this setting, and so made no attempt for the usual aloofness, but tried to make himself blend. With his bright red hair and blue eyes, it was not an easy thing.

"Good evening," he greeted finally once the two groups had settled down. The Cullens were almost disturbingly still in their chairs, while the Quileutes were noticeably restlessly and the small gymnasium was filled with the sounds of their shuffling. "My name is Philip," he introduced with a smile. "I have been invited here as a mediator."

"What kind of doctor are you?" one of the dark-skinned boys on his left asked, his upper lip pulled upwards in distaste.

"No kind, actually." This statement seemed to be met with more suspicion than if he'd announced himself as a psychologist. He laced his fingers together and looked down at his hands. It had been almost three months since he'd come to in Dr. Cullen's upstairs bedroom in far-away Maine. His hands weren't quite as disturbing anymore and his body had filled out a little under the care of Cullen's staff.

"I'm Sam."

He glanced up, realized that some time must have passed since his announcement, and smiled at the speaker. He seemed to be the oldest of the Quileutes and had an easy smile and a calm temperament.

"I assume you already know all of the Cullens..." He lifted one brow slightly, inviting correction.

"I do not, actually. I have been briefly acquainted with Dr. and Mrs. Cullen, but otherwise this is all of our first meetings."

One of the taller men snorted in disbelief. His hands were shoved into his jeans' pockets and his head was turned away from Philip and angled downward. Philip noted him immediately and felt there must be a blocking point there. He glanced around the rest of the circle and noticed one of the young girls on the Cullens' side of the room watching him intently, her brow furrowed. The patrician boy next to her had his lips pursed and was watching her with the same sort of intensity.

This was going to be a long night.

"What do you know of the... situation, here?" Sam tried finally. Philip realized he was letting his mind wander too much and dragged himself back in. He smiled gratefully at Sam and made a mental note to at least _act_ like he was little more in control.

"Only that there is some manner of-" he didn't want to say "blood feud" so, "-conflict, between your two groups."

"Bullshit," the irritated man he had noticed before muttered.

"I'm sorry, what is your name?" Philip asked, trying on his authority voice. The man didn't seem impressed and lifted his head to look him straight in the eye. Philip had another heart-stopping moment of flight-or-fight panic and knew immediately that it would be "flight" if he could just get his legs to move. The wave passed, leaving him weak-kneed and shaky once the man lowered his eyes again.

"Jacob," he growled after some prompting from Sam via a discreet elbow passed through his neighbor. "And don't try to give us any line like Dr. Cullen hasn't told you everything from _his_ side."

For as much as he seemed to have a deep-seated dislike of the Cullens, Philip noted that he still called the doctor by his title and didn't say his name with much venom. There was a softening there.

"Actually, no," Philip corrected. "I had only a brief meeting with doctor Cullen a few months ago when he originally approached me with this idea. I have been told nothing but, as I said, that there is some difficulty here. The only reason I am here is to mediate and hopefully help you come to a peaceful solution to your disagreement."

"_Disagreement_?" Jacob asked incredulously.

This was going to be a very long project. He forced a smile and turned to the woman on his immediate left. "Why don't we start with some introductions. My name is Philip, as I said. I am twenty-six years old and I played football in high school, among other things. Why don't you each tell me a little about yourselves?"

He smiled encouragingly at the girl and she darted her eyes questioningly to Sam. Philip eyed the other man carefully, marking him as the leader of their little group, though Jacob seemed to be the point of contention. Sam struck him as even-tempered and was probably the facilitator of these meetings on the Quileute side.

"Leah."

"Hello, Leah. Tell me a little about yourself."

She opened her mouth to speak, but Jacob muttered, "This is stupid," under his breath and she clammed up immediately. Philip eyed the other man speculatively.

"What is your favorite color, Leah?"

"Green," the girl offered. She crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair, clearly unwilling to offer anything else.

"Okay, great. And you?"

One-by-one he drew each of their names out and some small trivial fact. Paul, Jared and Quil seemed to share their leader's calm temperament, though Quil was a little on the fence. He and Embry sat on Jacob's either side and appeared to be his chief supporters. Colin and Brady seemed willing to go with the majority and shared their hobbies with the sort of easiness of children, even though both boys looked to be approaching twenty.

Seth was a wonder. "My name is Seth Clearwater," he announced, the first to give his last name. He had a bright smile and seemed comfortable next to the large bear of a man on his left. "I love running and fishing and swimming and playing with fish while swimming. I like the forest and wrestling and baseball. My favorite color is blue and my favorite food is...anything edible, especially the edible things that bite back." He winked, and the room seemed to warm as his deep voice wound easily around the chairs. Even Jacob seemed to marginally effected. He nudged the man next to him and announced, "Your turn."

"Emmett," the brick wall introduced, bowing from the waist with a flourish and a sardonic smile. "I like the things that guys like," he announced. "I would kill you in football, stringbean." His flashing smile was a challenge and Philip found himself smiling back.

"I was always the quarterback," he cautioned, hands in the air.

"Hope you've got a good defensive line," Emmett said with a wink. He took a breath and let it go loudly. "I like... blue and silver. And bears. And this kid." He nudged Seth hard enough to unseat the leggy Quileute and Seth grabbed at Colin to steady himself, laughing good-naturedly. "He's alright for a pup."

It was progress. Those two could be the sealing point.

The woman next to Emmett introduced herself as Rosalie, but merely glared at him as if daring him to ask her any personal questions. Alice was more willing to share. The tiny woman had a sweet voice and spoke animately about her first love, which seemed to be shopping. Jasper was an intriguing man with a strange mannerism. Philip felt he was a sort of anchor, and epicenter; he had some sort of control over the chaos that Philip didn't quite understand yet.

If Jasper was the epicenter, Bella might have been the storm. She was quiet and seemed self-conscious but there was something about the way she looked at Jacob, even while holding Edward's hand that struck Philip as An Issue. Jacob seemed more tense and irritated than ever as she and Edward introduced themselves. From their body language, the two were obviously involved and very much concerned with one another, and less with their effect on their surroundings. There was a certain strangeness about Bella, too, that didn't sit well. She seemed like an interloper in both groups, lacking the calm mannerism and distinctive features of the Cullens and having no apparent connection to the Quileutes except through Jacob. Sitting between Jasper and Edward she looked almost disturbingly plain. Philip resolved to keep an eye on her and smiled as Carlisle introduced himself again.

Of the entire group, Esme was the only one to ask him how _he_ was doing.

"We're off to a great start. It's nice to get to meet all of you and I absolutely appreciate each of you coming tonight. Mediating these sorts of issues can be a long and harrowing process, but there is light at the end of the tunnel." He glanced around the circle, smiling in what he hoped was an encouraging way. He had practiced smiling in front of a mirror, trying to regain the easy charm he had so taken for granted when he was younger. Staring at his own battered face had been a battle.

From the set of Jacob's shoulders, staying in his seat seemed to be just as much of a battle and Philip tried to regain ground.

"Would anyone like to share anything else about themselves?" he offered. His approach to group therapy had always been to deal with each individual on an individual level and see how they fit into the group, before attempting to deal with the larger problem, at which point each group would be treated, as whole, like a single individual.

"What is this supposed to do?" Jacob asked, voice rising to something like a bark. Philip had to admit that the man was something to behold when angry. He didn't much cherish the idea of being on the wrong end of Jacob's temper. "You don't even know _half_ of what you've gotten yourself into and it's _stupid_ that you're just... sitting there like you can _fix_ this." He made an angry gesture that was supposed to encompass the entire room. It did not escape Philip's notice that his hands immediately passed through the space between him and Bella.

"This is not about _fixing_," Philip argued. "There's nothing _wrong_ with you. This is about _compromise_, about change-"

"Bull. Shit."

"Jacob, can't you just try?" Bella interrupted. Her brows were drawn together and face turned up to him, expression pleading. "For me?" Bella, Philip realized, was an unconscious manipulator, and Jacob seemed to realize it to.

The man jumped to his feet and Philip leaned back reflexively. At six-two, Philip was not exactly a small guy, but he found himself marveling at Jacob's height. The man had to be over six and half feet tall and he showed none of the tendency towards gangliness that most abnormally tall men seemed to display. "You can't just say shit like that while you're sitting with _him_ and expect me to just come crawling to your feet, Bella!"

"Jacob!" Bella protested. She had both hands up at her throat in a classic hurt posture. Jacob hesitated.

"Please sit back down, Jacob," Philip tried, keeping his voice soft.

Jacob's back tensed again and he snarled wordlessly, hands clenched at his sides. Sam rose slowly, not intimidated by Jacob's sheer size or impressive anger. "Please sit, Jacob."

"This is fucking _ridiculous_, Sam," Jacob seethed.

Edward joined them on their feet, placing his body between Jacob and Bella in a deliberately casual way that seemed to be aimed at getting a rise out of the already-seething man. Something seemed to break in Jacob then and Philip stared wide-eyed and uncomprehending at what happened next.

The high-vaulted room was filled with the sounds of shredding fabric and horrible shriek of metal as they all came apart and the doors banged open with a sharp sound, a massive wolf disappearing between them.

Philip's heart felt like it was going to explode and he stared down at the shreds of clothing and torn pieces of metal with his mouth open. He swallowed hard and looked around the room. No one seemed surprised. A sick sense of dread uncurled in his gut and he stared at a his 'patients' with wide eyes, the first stirrings of suspicion uncoiling in his mind.

They were all... they must all be....

"We were hoping for a little more gentle of an unveiling," Dr. Cullen said finally, his soft voice piercing in the stunned silence.

Philip stood slowly and stepped around his chair, as though the flimsy thing could protect him. He set his hands on the back of the chair to hide the way they shook. Dr. Cullen had said there was some...unusual circumstances, but this...? That last binge must have really messed him up. He must be dead. Detox was his introduction to hell, Carlisle was his own personal Devil and these demons were here to tear him apart for the rest of eternity.

He swallowed hard and tried not to sound as terrified as he felt. "I think that's enough for this week. We'll... reconvene next week. Same place, same time." He offered the group a tremulous smile and tried to decide what was better; backing away until he hit the door, or letting the rest of them leave first.

The Quileutes disappeared quickly enough, only Sam lingering behind to have a brief discussion with Carlisle. The Cullens left in groups of two while the pair spoke, until only Carlisle and Sam were left.

"Perhaps it's time you learned a little more about the... issue?" Carlisle suggested.

Philip only nodded, mostly because he was too scared to disagree.


End file.
